Find a Way
by afangirlsmuse
Summary: Emma had been left behind in Neverland, thought to be dead by those closest to her. Gaining an ally in the form of a spitfire fairy, she will stop at nothing to protect a certain little someone from Peter Pan, whose true motives are unraveling, and find a way home to Henry, to her parents. And to her True Love with whom the certain little someone has a connection with.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Find a Way  
**Rating: **M (no smut just yet though, sorry guys)  
**Pairing: **Emma/Regina_  
_**Show/Fandom: **Once Upon a Time  
**Warnings: **None for this chapter, I don't think.**  
****Author's note: **This is a continuation, sequel if you will, for _Price to Pay._ You don't have to read it to get the gist on the story, or maybe you will, I don't know. I do have the whole story pretty much mapped out, though I'm not entirely sure how many chapters it will go on for. I'm aiming for ten(?) And why yes, this story _is_ titled after Safetysuit's song and you should totally listen to it.  
**Here's a disclaimer: **Yeah, I don't own anything but the writing (and even then it's not that good). This is just for fun. And any mistakes are my own because I'm lazy.  
**Summary: **Emma had been left behind in Neverland, thought to be dead by those closest to her. Gaining an ally in the form of a spitfire fairy, she will stop at nothing to protect a certain little someone from Peter Pan, whose true motives are unraveling, and find a way home to Henry, to her parents. And to her True Love with whom the certain little someone has a connection with.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

In a land where time didn't exist, Neverland was rooted not only in magic, but in a curse of its own. Much like the Dark Curse, people on the island didn't—couldn't—age. Once a dream formed in little boys' imaginations was now Emma's reality. She had no concept of time, not really. Not anymore.

The sun rose, it fell, and then it rose again.

But somehow, in the middle of it all, Emma _could _age. For the past year (and she knew it had been a year because she had kept count, as difficult as it was) she had aged accordingly. It wasn't all too visible, not from what she saw in pools of water, her reflection rippling.

But it had been noticeable in other ways, the one way she knew it to be happening, anyway.

The trek before her was long and daunting. She had spent months with Tink, following her around the island in order to find a way home. No magic beans, no portals. Every lead turned into a dead end and she just about had enough of the Shadow, the Lost Ones, and Peter Pan himself.

Grunting as she used a lowered vine to pull the weight of her body over a fallen log, she used her other to carefully hold the most precious thing against her chest.

Tink was a few feet ahead, walking as if her legs weren't killing her. And they probably weren't, Emma thought. The fairy always was calm and collected. It was odd, actually. But probably a fairy trait. Or something.

"Are we ever going to, you know, stop?" Emma asked, a hint of a groan in her words. She may be aging, but she would never exactly be grown up. At least not entirely.

Tink didn't respond immediately in words. She smiled at Emma's impatience and gestured ahead. "We can set up camp once the sun's rays have hit the—"

"Yeah yeah," Emma murmured, effectively cutting the fairy's sentence off. If she had to hear her talk about North and West and moss on trees and the sun's rays one more time she was going to lose it. "Just tell me when we can sit."

They walked in silence until Tink informed her that the sun had reached its appropriate height and that the shadows were growing, whatever the hell that meant, and they set up camp in the middle of a few tall standing trees. The area was pretty much covered by the towering upper branches and perfect to hide from the enemy. But they weren't worried, the Shadow didn't ever come this far around the island. Neither did the Lost Ones.

"What do you think he wants from my son?" Emma asked later that night when the pair sat around the fire, each holding a leaf of mixed berries. She poked around at her food before popping what she assumed to be a blueberry into her mouth. Or at least Neverland's version of one.

Tink, on the other hand, opted for the red berries. She gave Emma a smile, one that was sympathetic and one she had given her fellow blonde many times in the past. It wasn't the first time that question had come up. Lately, in fact, it had been coming up more and more frequently.

"We've been over this." Tink told her gently.

Emma automatically cradled the bundle in her arms closer. Sighing, she slouched, allowing her back to fully rest against the tree's trunk. "I'm tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop," she admitted. "I mean, this is all some intricate plan of his, isn't it?" She was met with silence and continued, "it just seems that way. I don't know."

Tink had gotten good at reading Emma, she knew that the woman barely opened up, and moved to sit up with legs crossed. She sensed the conversation was far deeper than the blonde made it out to be. As they always were, really. "Peter Pan can do much, Emma, but he cannot predict the future."

Emma scoffed. "Really? Because everything has played out exactly how he wanted it to." Tink didn't argue with that and, honestly, Emma had a feeling she was holding back in some way. "He already messed with Henry, if he thinks he can just—"

Cut off by a whimper, Emma lowered her gaze to the small bundle in her arms, the true source of her aging; her son.

The pregnancy came as a shock initially and it was only when she began to show that she realised she _was _aging—growing, her body catering to the small little life it grew.

At three months old Emma was sure he was the most beautiful baby she had ever laid eyes on, excluding Henry, because it just didn't seem fair to compare the two.

With a wisp of dark brunette hair covering his head, his eyes were a brilliant sea blue while his skin tone reminded her all too much of his other mother's. He was the perfect mix of them both, a child conceived through a powerful bout of magic—True Love.

Emma _knew_ it was True Love, it was the only thing that made sense.

What didn't make sense was the fact that _Regina _was her True Love. Or maybe it did, maybe it always had made sense. But even after a year it was still a confusing and sore topic for her.

All she knew was that there wasn't anyone else but Regina that could possibly be her son's other biological parent. Not only had she not slept with anyone else, but the baby shared her genetics. While she was still trying to figure out how her other son's adoptive mother was her True Love, she knew that the son she held in her arms was the product of it.

And, like Regina had once said, with anything good came someone bad who wanted it.

Emma allowed the baby to grasp onto her smallest finger and smiled in a momentary lost thought as his whimper subsided and his eyes shut sleepily.

The pregnancy had been difficult, but maybe that was a pattern with her. One in a prison, the other on a magical island. She was just lucky and grateful that she had Tinker Bell by her side the whole time. The fairy had actually been the one to deliver the baby in the dead of night when the little guy decided he wanted to be born in the middle of a Lost One's attack. She had also been the one to soothe Emma's pain and heartbreaking cries as it became too much to bear.

Yes, she had spent many nights crying. It was all too familiar, being pregnant and alone, left behind by the one person she wanted to be with most. She wasn't in a cell anymore, but the island was her prison now.

The name had been harder to choose because she wanted it to mean something and a part of her really wanted Regina's approval, too. Which was stupid, probably, because it was doubtful she would ever even see Regina again. And it was even more doubtful that Regina would realise that she had another son out there, one biological to her and conceived in pure love.

In the end she had chosen the name Sawyer. Partly because she enjoyed the character of Tom Sawyer and could connect to the con artist in a way that kind of comforted her. Or maybe it was because she had seen one too many episodes of _LOST_ (and the irony was kind of perfect) but really, it came down to the fact that she had used the name as an alias in the past.

Emma Swan had become Emma Sawyer on more than one occasion. During her early thieving days, during her days as a bail bondsman—person—and it had never really left her.

So her son was named Sawyer. Sawyer Nolan Mills. Nolan after her father and Mills because she had never wanted it to be anything but. He was a Mills, even with her family's chin.

Sawyer dozed back off to sleep peacefully, comfortably situated in his makeshift carrier. It was made out of Emma's old jeans, she had fashioned the one good pant leg left and found thick vines to act as a support handle which now sat snugly around her neck, holding him to her.

She cradled him in her arm, an action which lulled the baby into a deeper sleep, and almost having lost track of what she had been saying, placed the leaf containing the berries onto the ground beside her so she could run her fingers across the top of his head.

"If he thinks he can touch a single hair on his head then he is sorely mistaken," she finally spoke out. She was mesmerized by the little life in her arms and, God, she never thought it was possible to love someone so much.

There was her love for Henry which would never be matched, but the raw animalistic _need to protect _that came when her baby was threatened, was something else. It consumed her entirely, swallowed her whole.

After being left behind (and she had come to realise that it was just a misunderstanding, nothing more; she was thought to be dead) there had been a sense of nothingness. But Sawyer became her reason, he reignited every fire Neverland's waters had fizzled out. She would find a way home, for him. Emma would do whatever it took to find a way back to Storybrooke. Back to Henry, back to her parents.

Back to Regina.

The flickering light from the fire illuminated Emma's sad look as she thought of the woman, thought of Regina as she gazed at their son. Without her it felt as though a piece of her heart was missing. It was awfully cliché but she was beginning to learn that everything cheesy and cliché-type was indeed true. They came from fairy tales, lives once lived. It had been there her whole life, that hole, and the only time it had disappeared completely was when she had been with Regina.

The stories of Snow White and Prince Charming, her parents, now made sense. When they were separated from one another they acted as though it was the end of the world and it used to annoy her, kind of, but now she experienced it herself and, well, it was a horrible thing to be burdened with.

But coupled with the loss of Henry, it was almost unbearable.

The last time she had seen her son had been through a spyglass where she saw him in Regina's arms just before the Jolly Roger disappeared into a portal. And the time before that had been back in Storybrooke when he had been taken away through yet another portal.

She had always been too late.

Emma knew that he was safe, she could feel it. He was with Regina, with her parents. He was home, back where he belonged, probably in his room reading his comic books. It comforted her to know that, but it also hurt to know that he was without her. She knew that she wasn't the only one struggling with the separation.

Except for Henry it was much more than that, he thought Emma to be dead—they all did.

She wondered if they held a funeral back for her in Storybrooke. If her name sat carved into stone in a cemetery with an empty coffin beneath it.

"Neither of us would ever allow such a thing to happen, Emma. You know that."

Tink's words caused the corners of Emma's lips to upturn. They were so genuine and true that she couldn't help but believe them. And, as Sawyer's godmother, Emma knew Tink would do whatever it took, even if it meant sacrificing her own life, to keep him safe.

There was something special about the baby, they knew it. And Peter Pan wanted it.

"I know." Emma murmured softly. She was entranced, her fingers soothingly brushing against the hair on Sawyer's head. "But Henry was never the boy he wanted, you know that."

Emma was looking at Tink now and they shared a knowing glance. Though Tink would say that Peter Pan didn't have the ability to foresee the future, they knew otherwise. Maybe he didn't have the power himself, but he definitely knew what the future entailed.

Henry's kidnapping had been a ruse at best. One mapped out carefully in order to get both Regina and Emma to Neverland where the island's magic and their latent feelings would conceive a child through the most powerful magic of all.

That child—their son—would be the most powerful being any world had ever seen.

The whispers of this unnerved Emma whenever she heard them in the forest through the trees. How could something so small and so precious become so powerful? She thought about it daily but there was something else that bothered her - would he use these powers for good, or evil?

When raised in Emma's care the boy would grow up to be on the side of good, a powerful leader destined for greatness. But in Peter Pan's care, well, Emma really didn't want to think about it.

"Rest up." Tink urged gently. "I'll take the first watch. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Emma nodded her gratefulness and allowed her body to get into a comfortable position, all the while being careful not to disturb the sleeping baby she held. It had been a year and yet she still wasn't used to Neverland's floor, not to sleep on at least. What she would give for a bed at Granny's and maybe a cheeseburger. God, a cheeseburger.

In front of her Tink disappeared in a flurry of sparkling green magic only to remerge when the smoke cleared as fun-sized with little wings fluttering on her back. She floated upwards, keeping watch on the skies and lands that surrounded them.

Emma allowed the sense of ease to wash over her knowing that, for now, they were safe. With a kiss to Sawyer's head her eyes came to a close and she nuzzled closer to her son.

"You are safe," she whispered to the sleeping boy in what had become a nightly routine. "You are loved, and you are good."

The so-called prophecy frightened her. The idea that Sawyer could potentially become more evil than the Dark One, Peter Pan and the Evil Queen combined, was terrifying. But Emma was comforted in knowing that her son was hearing her words and maybe internalizing them as he grew. She refused to believe in anything else because he _was _good. Her love would save him.

And as _The Saviour_ he was the one person she really wanted to save.

"You are good."

The whispering murmur was barely audible as she drifted into a sleep, unaware of Sawyer's small hand touching her cheek and the sparks of blue magic that swirled under his fingertips and seeped into her skin.

* * *

**A/N: **Regina will make an appearance in the next chapter and, I don't know, _maybe _it's possible that she will find out that our favourite blonde isn't actually dead. I wonder how...? ;)

Also, the cover image for this took me about an hour because I couldn't figure out what to do with the text (no really, it was so frustrating). It took more work than the story itself, actually.

But, anyway, chapter two should be up in a week or so!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Find a Way  
**Rating: **M  
**Pairing: **Emma/Regina _  
_**Show/Fandom: **Once Upon a Time  
**Warnings: —**  
**Here's a disclaimer: **Yeah, I don't own anything but the writing. This is just for fun.  
**Summary: **Emma had been left behind in Neverland, thought to be dead by those closest to her. Gaining an ally in the form of a spitfire fairy, she will stop at nothing to protect a certain little someone from Peter Pan, whose true motives are unraveling, and find a way home to Henry, to her parents. And to her True Love with whom the certain little someone has a connection with.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Regina woke to the feeling of eyes on her. Her room, bathed in nothing but darkness save for the soft glow drifting in from the street lamps outside, felt eerily cold - a foreboding feeling in the air. Instantly she turned her head to the side, seeking out what had pulled her from her sleep in the first place.

The door to her bedroom was ajar and she could just about make out a figure standing there. Well, she thought, there was only one person that could be. "Henry?" She called out softly but the figure by her door retreated, the sounds of footsteps padding away in the distance.

She removed herself from the bed immediately, feeling somewhat panicked. It just didn't feel right and a part of her—her maternal instinct—screamed at her to follow and seek out her son.

"Henry?" She tried again, this time as she stepped into the hall, but it wasn't how she remembered. It was all skewed, narrow and long and seemingly never-ending. She swallowed, squinted, and touched upon the wall briefly as if to steady herself.

At the end of the hallway stood the figure but she couldn't make him out, he was hiding in the shadows. She needed to get closer. So she took a step and then another and then another. She began to approach him slowly, tentatively and almost warily.

Finally, she reached him. "Henry, sweetheart," she spoke softly and held out her hand to touch his shoulder. Only when she did, the shadows disappeared, and the boy standing there was not her son.

He was younger than Henry, around four or five, she deduced. He wore a pyjamas in the purest of white, the sleeves long and his feet bare. She looked at him from head to toe and toe to head and set her eyes on his hair. What she assumed had once been a dark brown had lightened into sandy blond and his eyes, a pool of brilliant blue, stared at her—pleading.

Regina didn't know why but she felt a pull to the child. He needed her and she needed to protect him. It was such an intense rush that her eyes widened at the response he had evoked from her.

Questions swam in her mind. Who was he? What did he want? Why was he in her house?

His voice, small and soft, pulled her from her chaotic train of thoughts.

"I need your help."

The boy stared up at her and stood as though a weight had been placed upon his shoulders. She got a sense that he was strong, powerful even. But so small and fragile that her heart clenched and she felt the need to sweep him up off his feet and into her arms to shield him from the burdens he held.

"I need your help," he repeated and she swore she heard his voice echo. But maybe it was the hallway, its shape seemed to change every few seconds. He continued to stare up at her eyes and his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, watered. "Please, Mama."

That got her undivided attention and her eyes focused on him like lasers to a point. "Excuse me?" She questioned so quickly, so rushed, that her voice sounded hoarse. Like gravel under thick boots.

The child held out his hand expectantly. A tear had slipped from his eye and now cascaded down his cheek. It looked like a crystal, she thought. And he looked angelic, the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes upon. He was shaking, she realised.

He was _scared._

So she took his hand because she felt like she needed to.

"I don't want to live in the darkness. Please don't make me." He pleaded with her. She gripped his hand tighter with a sense of urgency washing over her. "Don't let Him take me."

"Who?" She questioned without a second thought. She crouched down to be at level with him and not once did she release his hand, not once did she remove their physical contact. "Who wants to take you?"

The lights in the hall flickered, rattling and shaking like a warning. The boy looked alarmed and began to pull her down the hall, away from whatever the hell had him so spooked. Regina stood and followed him without question, like she was in some kind of daze or dream.

"He's coming!" The boy shouted and she narrowed her brow. Since when the hell did it sound like she was in the middle of a storm? The walls cracked around her, the light bulbs burst and the panic arose in her so quickly, resulting in the thumping of her heart as the boy came to an abrupt stop.

"I'm sorry," he told her, "but you need to wake up now."

A piercing cry sounded behind her. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. She snapped her head around to see if she could see what it was but nothing came into view. Nothing but the disintegrating walls and raining glass shards.

"Wake up, what—?" she turned back to face the boy, but he was gone.

And suddenly she was waking up in her bed with a gasp, sitting upright with sweat covering her body and her heart beating rapidly within her chest. She flicked her eyes around the room, threw the covers off and ran into the hall. It was just as she had left it but as one thought came to mind, she paled.

_Henry._

As soon as she was at his room, she was opening the door.

Relief washed over her as she saw him in his bed, sound asleep and safe. She then allowed herself a moment to breathe as she placed her head against his door, watched him for a moment, and then stepped back into the hall with his door making a click as she closed it behind her.

She never did fall back to sleep after that and as soon as she dropped Henry off at school that morning, she went to visit Mr. Gold.

* * *

The bell rang as she entered the shop at 8:23am. She ignored the 'closed' sign and used a wave of her hand to unlock the door. Rumpel was around, she knew it—he basically lived in his precious shop. And as if on cue, the tapping of his cane was heard as he emerged from the back room.

"Ah, Your Majesty," she rolled her eyes at what had used to be her title but hadn't been for a very long time. "I do believe the sign said _closed _and the door was locked."

While he moved to situate himself behind the counter, she approached and laid her palms flat down on the glass. "I had a dream."

The man's lips twisted in amusement. "If you're referring to the infamous speech, then I do believe it is _have, _dearie."

God, she almost growled. "Cut the crap, Rumpel." Though her words were sharp and acerbic, he could see the urgency in her eyes. The panic, the confusion. His curiosity peaked, he nodded for her to continue. "I had a dream," she repeated. "There was a boy, he was young. He asked for my help."

Moments passing and Regina not having said anything else, Gold tapped his cane. "I don't have all day."

"He—" Regina exhaled, her shoulders sagging. Then she lifted her chin confidently and almost smiled. "He called me _Mama_ and there was… something about him. He needed help, he said he didn't_ want to live in the darkness_ and that he didn't want _Him_ to take him."

Gold listened intently. He was coming to realise that it wasn't some average dream, it certainly didn't sound like one. Any and all amusement left his features as Regina continued.

"I tried to help him but it was as if a storm was approaching. He said that _He _was coming and then he apologised to me and told me that I needed to wake up. I took my eyes off of him for a split second and when I turned back, he—" she exhaled a breath, "was gone."

"Then you woke up." Gold murmured as Regina nodded in confirmation.

"So?" She pressed, awaiting answers.

"Well, from what you've told me, it seems as though this child is reaching out to you."

"He's real?" She looked at him like he sported two heads. "That's ridiculous, it was but a dream."

Gold smirked. "Then why come here to tell me about it?" Regina stilled, no answer or quick retort on the tip of her tongue. "It appears that this child chose you, has bonded with you. You two, how do I put this," he waved a hand in the air, "have a connection."

Regina followed the man as he walked, aided by his cane, into the back room.

"I don't even know him!" She exclaimed, finding a connection to be impossible when she had never even met the child to begin with. Still, the nagging feeling of familiarity and duty pulled at her. _Did _she know him?

As she pondered this question, it seemed that Gold had the same idea. He removed a book from a shelf, old and worn, looking much like her mother's book of spells. "Are you sure about that?" He held out the book but she was hesitant to accept it. He chuckled. "Don't worry, my dear, this one's on me."

"There's always a price with you," she sneered, not for a moment believing his words. And why should she? Sure, they weren't at each other's throats anymore but he would always be the man that corrupted her mother and then her. He had been her catalyst, in every sense of the word.

"True," he agreed, "but let's just say I'm curious."

After a moment of hard stares, Regina accepted the book and turned to leave.

"I do hope you find what you're looking for." He called after her and as soon as he heard the bell chiming, swallowed and lifted his cane.

He unscrewed the top to remove a key and curled his fingers around it as it laid in his palm and decided to close the shop for the day.

* * *

Henry was sitting with Neal and Mulan in the middle booth at Granny's when Regina arrived, bell signalling her arrival, at 5pm. A few heads turned, nothing fancy, and Henry smiled at her gently and she gave a genuine one in return as she moved to join them.

After school Henry had went to his usual session with Dr. Hopper—more frequent as of late, having just hit the one year anniversary mark of Emma's death—and after that he had been collected by his dad and his girlfriend for dinner at the diner.

Regina sat down beside Henry in the booth and offered an apologetic, ever the politician, smile to the trio. "Sorry I'm late."

"Ah, no worries." Neal waved her off as he tapped his fingers against the menu he held. "Someone couldn't seem to figure out what they wanted anyway."

At that, both men at the table chuckled at the expense of Mulan.

"Boys." Regina and Mulan said in unison.

Regina had found that she quite liked Neal and Mulan's presence. Granted, she still wasn't fond of the man—she liked Mulan the best out of the pair—but for the sake of Henry, she had agreed to get along with him.

When he had returned from the Enchanted Forest, Robin Hood and Mulan in tow, he had been informed of Emma's death and had been devastated. After that Regina couldn't find it in her to be needlessly cruel to the man when she too had loved Emma Swan.

A lot had changed in a year, actually. She was no longer seen as the Evil Queen, not since saving Storybrooke from the trigger and returning from Neverland with a truce with the Charmings. No need for any more death, they had agreed. The _for Emma _was unspoken, but there.

That didn't mean that she and Snow braided each other's hair and talked about boys, but they were civil and there was absolutely no heart ripping. They all—Regina, Snow, David, Neal, and even Rumpel—banded together for the sake of Henry. He had been in a fragile state during his kidnapping, his sense of blind faith and belief rattled to the point where he questioned it. Coupled with Emma's death and Regina had him back seeing Archie, with the boy agreeing this time around; he needed it.

The last of the Neverland crew, Hook, had left in his ship a mere week after returning to Maine. There was nothing for him there, he said as much, and Regina knew that Emma's death had affected him too. She had thanked him for his help and told him there was always room for him in Storybrooke should he choose to return. He had ruffled Henry's hair, smirked at his mother, and then sailed away with the brunettes watching him until he disappeared into the horizon.

Accepting the menu Mulan offered her, Regina nodded in thanks. "So, Henry, how was your session?"

"Yes, you should tell us all about it." Mulan encouraged, her eyes warm and welcoming.

While Henry relayed the events of his session with Archie and even his day at school, they ordered their meal. Burgers and fries for father and son, lasagna for Regina, and soup and a sandwich for Mulan. Henry got hot chocolate, Neal a beer, while the women had water.

They were in the middle of the meal when Regina raised her glass of water to take a sip and noticed her fingertips glowing a powerful blue. It took her by surprise and she gasped, but luckily she kept her grip and didn't drop the glass.

"Mom?" Henry turned his head and saw what she was looking at. His eyes narrowed. "What is that? Are you using magic?"

"I—I…" she stuttered, shaking her head from side to side. "No, Henry, I—"

Henry looked at her expectantly whereas Neal looked uncomfortable and Mulan watched in something close to fascination.

Finally, Regina spoke, her jaw set. "I'm not doing that."

* * *

Dinner had been an awkward affair after Regina's glowing fingers had made an appearance. She still didn't know what to make of it. Not only was her magic not blue, but she hadn't conjured it or willed it. It didn't belong to her, that much she knew, and honestly, it unnerved her.

Having promised to Henry, and in front of Neal and Mulan too, that she would figure out what had caused it, she currently rifled through her mother's spell book. It was a little after 10pm and Henry had went to bed not long ago, needing to be at the school early for a class project.

Regina, alone, sat in the middle of her study, the fire crackling in the fireplace and a glass of cider in hand as she looked through page after page—dozens of other books and papers scattered around her form. Not only did she need to get to the bottom of the magic, but her dream was on her mind too.

_Mama, _the boy had said. He had referred to her as his mother and while she knew that was impossible, Henry was her only child, she had felt drawn to him anyway.

In the end she had come up empty and after having four glasses of cider, she wasn't particularly up for going over the books yet again. She doubted she would get an answer from them anyway. As she placed the spell book into the cabinet and locked it with the key, she remembered the other book—the one Gold had given her. She had forgotten all about it.

Regina ended up on the couch with legs tucked under her body as she opened the book Gold had given her only that morning. She read each page closely and came to one halfway through that made her jaw set tightly.

The picture depicted was a shadow, eyes bright and stature imposing. Neverland was referenced next to it and she decided she didn't want to read any further, that she didn't want to relive that part of her life. It was a closed chapter in her life and she didn't need to revisit it.

Exhaling, she stood and brushed the creases out of her dress. She decided to call it a night and turned out the lights, walking the winding staircase to her bedroom.

Unknown to her, back downstairs, the book flipped open and landed on the page about Neverland.

* * *

They had been awake for some hours already and the sun had barely been up in the sky. They walked through the jungle, feet trudging on unforgiving floor, when Tink snapped to attention.

"What?" Emma asked, predicting the worst. And as she listened out, to the sound of what she knew to be the Lost One's approaching, she looked at Tink with wide eyes. "How?"

Tink shook her head drastically. Not only did the Lost Ones never come around to this part of the island, they had no way of knowing they were there. They hadn't used magic as they knew that doing so would alert both the Lost Ones and Pan himself.

"Did you use magic?" She asked Emma because turning into a smaller version of her fairy self didn't exactly count as magic.

"No, I didn't. I—" Emma paused, realisation washing over her face in that way it tended to do. She lowered her gaze to Sawyer who was awake but content, staring back up at her with big blue eyes. It was like a silent communication and Emma swallowed thickly.

She looked back up at Tink. "I didn't," she reiterated firmly. "But _he _did."


End file.
